


Science Team Rob Some Pogs

by jerk3max



Category: HLVRAI - Fandom, Half Life VR But The AI Is Self Aware
Genre: Gen, Heist, Post-Canon, benrey and forzen are exes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-02
Updated: 2020-08-02
Packaged: 2021-03-06 01:56:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,983
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25675465
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jerk3max/pseuds/jerk3max
Summary: The science team plan another heist!
Comments: 4
Kudos: 36





	Science Team Rob Some Pogs

**Author's Note:**

> *clips thru the wall* hello hlvr community. i wanted to write something fun to get myself into writing again! 
> 
> this takes place after hlvrai1, where the world was fucked up briefly by the cascade randomly popping up alien portals, but w the defeat of benrey, the alien creatures went back to xen. basically nothing like hl2s events w the invasion cuz no <3

Gordon Freeman sits back in his chair, and breathes a loud sigh. Fifth time his dumbass team had lost control of the point. He watches as his dumb stupid Pyro is punted across the screen by a Red Scout and he jumps out of his skin at the reflection of Benrey in his monitor.

Benrey smacks his lips, "Pretty shit."

"Yeah." Gordon replies. "Thanks for that."

"You're welcome," Benrey says. 

Gordon was still getting used to living with the Science Team and Benrey. Their shared apartment- Tommy’s apartment, really- was cramped, but it was the best they had after the resonance cascade briefly fucked-up the entire planet. It was just a lucky break that Tommy owned a futon.

Benrey spins Gordon’s chair around, keeping his arm firmly on the back, over Gordon’s shoulder. He’s out of uniform, wearing a black turtle-neck sweater and a loose navy t-shirt over it that reads ‘I love it when my wife lets me play videogames’. He’s still wearing his helmet for whatever fucking reason. "Coomer wanted to talk to you in the kitchen if you're done being a fucking loser."

Gordon rolls his eyes, exiting the match and following Benrey, "It's not my fault, I'm still getting used to this new arm."

Benrey smirks, leaning himself against one of the kitchen walls, “Not your arm’s fault you’re bad at TF2.”

Tommy’s apartment had a studio-like setup, with only a small island with some stools separating the living-room and the kitchen. His kitchen was entirely primary colours, with clashing white marble countertops and a rusted white fridge adorned with stickers and garish magnets. His MIT diploma was pinned to the fridge with a custom magnet of Sunkist the dog and Tommy as a young gentleman, and Gordon had to admit it was probably the nicest thing in the entire house.

Tommy is perched on one of the countertops, wearing a floral button-down and bluejeans, propeller cap gently spinning as he talks to Bubby and Coomer. 

Gordon huffs, sitting himself on a stool. 

“Ah, hello Gordon!” Coomer proclaims. His labcoat and tie had been replaced with a plain blue long sleeve shirt. Gordon liked the simplicity. “Did you have a nice game of Tee-Eff-Two?” 

“It was fine,” Gordon says.

“He sucked,” Benrey interrupts. “Sucked shiiiit.”

“Yes, well, happens to the best of us,” Coomer says, enthusiasm still at one-hundred percent. “Tommy, Bubby, and I were discussing plans regarding your earlier proposition back at Black Mesa.”

“Proposition?” Gordon says, cocking his brow. “I didn’t offer anything sexual did I? Cuz I was clearly joking, guys.”

“No, you can keep your penis to yourself, Dr. Freeman,” Coomer says, “I was referring to your team effort to rob a bank.”

“Oh,” Gordon says, visibly relaxing, “But we did that already, with Darnold. We fucked up those cops."

"Yes, I remember our fun with Dr. Darnold," Coomer interrupts, wistfully. 

Gordon chuckles, "Okay, so what bank are we going for now?”

“It's okay, Mr Freeman, we aren’t robbing a bank, we p- pl- decided on a different idea,” Tommy says. 

Gordon frowns, leaning back, “Okayyy…”

“We’re going to steal back Tommy’s stolen pog collection,” Bubby says. 

“Pog?” Gordon asks.

“Pog!” Coomer says. “Pogs, generically called Milk Caps, is a game that was popular among children during the early-mid 1990s. The brand name ‘Pog’ is owned by the World Pog Federation. The name ‘Pog’ originated from POG, a brand of juice-”

“Alright, alright, I get it,” Gordon says, waving his arms until Coomer stopped talking. Jesus, he still had no idea how Coomer could do that.

“They were stolen whilst we were handling the Black Mesa incident,” Bubby says. 

“They were the extra-super rare No-Fear pogs, only a couple boxes got sent to one store and I had a collection Mr Freeman!” Tommy says. His propeller cap spins dramatically, and Gordon nods.

“Okay, Tommy. So, do we have a plan?” Gordon asks, “Like, do we even know who has them- the pogs?”

“We can’t say for certain, Gordon, but we believe Forzen may have been the culprit.” Bubby says, crossing his arms.

“That asshole?” 

“Yeah!” Tommy coos, “He must’ve stolen them when he dog-napped Sunkist!” 

Gordon nods. His eyes widen as Bubby lays a floor plan on the counter. The map was roughly scribbled in marker, depicting an apartment complex, surrounded by a short brick wall. A bright red ‘X’ was drawn in a top-floor apartment, in the corner of a small bedroom. Bubby taps the red, and Coomer nods knowingly. 

“Okay. You seem pretty prepared, huh?” Gordon says. This was surprisingly prepared for the likes of the science team.

“Tommy’s Pog collection is no joke, Gordon.” Coomer says.

Gordon nods. “Right, sorry. When are we going? Maybe we could ask Tommy’s dad for help with some gear.”

“No time for that, Gordon,” Coomer says. He pulls a pistol from behind his back, where it was tucked into his trousers, “We leave tonight!"

Gordon's jaw drops open, "Wait, Wait, no, you've gotta be kidding." What is with these goddamn scientists?! Gordon couldn't believe this fucking ears ninety percent of the time. "If we go now, Forzen is gonna be there, and he's gonna kick our asses, did you forget he's military? Who knows what kind of weapons he has!"

"We have something even better!" Coomer chirps, and Gordon swings his body to face him, incredulously.

"If you say friendship, I swear to God." Gordon says, through gritted teeth.

Coomer stays silent, and Benrey clicks his tongue against his teeth.

"What's the matter, Feetman?" Benrey says, his voice dripping with condescension, "Afraid of bullets?"

"Yes!" Gordon replies, exasperated.

"That's nerd shit, my man," Benrey says. He picks at his nails nonchalantly.

A soft rage boils in Gordon's stomach, his fists clenching on the island counter as he turns to look at Benrey. Then, he sighs, shoulders drooping. Fuck it.

"Fine."

☆☆☆

Gordon still can’t believe this is happening. He had thought that a lot recently, but this was so domestic and stupid it felt like another level of stupidity. 

Here he was, sat in the backseat of Bubby’s car, squashed between Tommy and Benrey as they drew animals in DS Pictochat, being driven towards a pog heist. This was a new level of idiocy. 

Bubby slows the car to a crawl, lowering the volume on his Death Grips album. Tommy turns off his DS.

They come to a halt across the street from the complex, moths fluttering gently under the only working streetlamp. Coomer aims his gun, and Gordon rests a hand on his shoulder. 

It's an older building, looking worse for wear after the cascade alien attacks. Some ivy had slithered up the brickwork, and a couple of apartment lights were on, the lighting muffled by closed curtains. 

Gordan leans forward, squishing his shoulders between the two front seats.

“Alright so, what’s the plan?” Gordon asks.

“We rush the bitch, Gordon!" Coomer says, brandishing his gun again.

"No! No, no, no, no," Gordon wrestles Coomer back into his seat. The car rocks with the movement, and the little bobblehead of Hatsune Miku on the dashboard wobbles softly. 

Gordon shimmies himself back into the backseat, rolling his eyes as Benrey makes a comment about his ass. He elbows Benrey in the crotch and decides to lean forward once more. 

"Okay, seriously this time, what is the plan?" Gordon says. "Like, Forzen could literally be home right now and we're trying to bust in there like crazy people."

"We are a little crazy," Bubby says. 

"That's true," Gordon nods. He sits back, and leans across Tommy to peer out of the side window, "Which apartment is his, again?" 

"Gordon, for one playcoin I can-"

"No." 

"Sixth floor," Bubby says. "The room where he stores the pogs is the one furthest from us, currently."

"Okay, thank you Dr Bubby," Gordon says, "Why don't we just take a quick and quiet look around? Can't arrest us for just looking, right?"

"Gordon, I'm wanted in over thirty states for felony tax evasion!" Coomer says.

"Of course you are."

Gordon follows Tommy out of the car, tightening his hair into a neat bun. He hears the distinct _clack_ of Benrey snapping his DS closed, and Gordon shoots a glare over his shoulder. Benrey offers a small shrug and Gordon holds in his sigh. 

They quietly make their way to the back of the building. The brickwork is messy, clearly haphazardly and quickly patched up. Some spray painted gibberish stains a part of the wall, and Gordon is distracted from deciphering the text by Tommy grabbing his shirt.

"Gordon, look!" He gasps, tugging Gordon around the corner. 

Tommy points towards the rusted fire escape, spiraling up the back of the complex. It creaks in the wind, and Gordon grimaces upon noticing the bottom third completely ripped away, rotting in the surrounding brush.

"We can't get up that way, Tommy, that thing is gonna totally collapse if we even set one foot on it," Gordon whispers. 

Bubby cracks his knuckles, and hooks his foot into a broken part of the wall. He grabs a brick above him that's at an angle, and Gordon's heart leaps into his throat as he realizes Bubby's plan.

"Hey!" Gordon says, still trying to keep his voice low, "Bubby, no, no! This is a bad plan, a very bad plan, that's gonna fall and wake up the whole goddamn street!"

"Not to worry, Gordon, I have reason to believe this is the way to progress," Bubby says, pulling himself up and securing his foot on another misplaced brick. "Come along now."

"God, fine!" Gordon huffs. He pinches the bridge of his nose, "But when this shit falls and Tommy's Pogs are lost forever, I'm blaming you."

"You can't blame Bubby for everything. Hello Gordon!" Coomer chimes in. 

"Yeah, that's not very nice of you, man," Benrey says, arms crossed as he lazily watches Bubby scale the wall.

"Shut up," Gordon says through gritted teeth. "Why don't you be useful and give me a leg up here?"

Benrey rolls his eyes but gets down on one knee, letting Gordon place his boot on his jean-clad thigh. "Haha, yo, it looks like I'm proposing to you."

"That is beautiful, Benrey," Coomer says.

Gordon shakes his head and hoists himself up, clinging to the brickwork as tight as he can. Bubby waves from his place on the fire escape.

"Careful, Mr Freeman," Tommy says.

Bubby grabs for Gordon's arm, pulling him up. Gordon grits his teeth, letting out a grunt as he steadies himself. He pats Bubby's shoulder in quiet thanks.

"Took you long enough," Benrey says, standing behind Bubby. 

Gordon gesticulates angrily at Benrey, refusing to give him the satisfaction of a scream. Benrey grins.

"Come along now gentleman, we had better get a move on!" Coomer says, now standing beside Bubby also. He powers forward up the creaking fire escape steps, and Gordon makes a mental note to move out and fake his own death as soon as humanly possible.

They make their way up the stairs, metal creaking softly beneath their feet. Tommy clings to the back of Gordon's shirt to keep himself steady. 

Coomer stops dead in his tracks outside one of the windows. It's open about an inch, curtains fluttering gently in the night air. Gordon holds his breath as Bubby slips his arm through the small gap, and twists the latch. He slides the window up and shimmies himself through, and Gordon feels unease creep into his stomach.

"This seems too easy," he whispers, letting Coomer and Tommy slip past him through the open window. "Right? Like, this is way too easy."

"Why you gotta be a baby all the time, man," Benrey says, wiggling himself through the window.

"I'm not! I'm just saying, military guy, stolen goods, and open window?" Gordon says. "Something doesn't add up here."

"It's okay if you're scared, Gordon," Coomer says, moving further into the house.

Gordon goes to retort, swallowing back his pride as he finally crawls through the window.

The apartment is dark, lit only by the now fully open window and the streetlights outside. There's a small couch and coffee table in the middle of the room, with an open plan kitchen occupying one corner. Bubby indicates towards a small hallway, and Coomer tightens his grip on the gun tucked into his belt. Gordon balls his fists.

Bubby gently presses the handle down to the bedroom door, swinging it open to an empty, pitch black room. He ventures forward, and Gordon follows, blood pounding in his ears as he tries to listen for Forzen hidden somewhere.

Tommy gasps as he enters, zipping over to a bedside cabinet and pulling his Pog collection from its place under a stack of videogame guide books. 

"My puh- my Pogs! They're all still here!" He says, gently rattling the box, "Still unopened, they'll retain their market value this way!"

Gordon's shoulders sag in relief, "Awesome, good. Let's go now, okay? I still feel super uneasy just standing here."

Gordon makes his way back to the living room, stopping dead in his tracks at the sight of Forzen coming through the front door. 

Forzen drops his grocery bags, balling his fists and clenching his teeth. His camouflage print jacket is rolled up to his elbows, and Gordon feels a new sense of unease wash over him at the size of his muscles.

"What are you doing in my house?" Forzen says, eyes darting between the members of the science team.

"You stole my Pogs!" Tommy says, pulling his revolver from his pocket.

"Yeah, you bootlicking fuck!" Gordon yells, "You steal oil and now you steal some dude's dog and his Pogs?!"

"They're the ultra rare No Fear Pogs, I doubt you'd even know their worth, bro" Forzen says. 

"You doubt Tommy's knowledge of his own Pogs?" Coomer says, now also brandishing his gun. 

“I’ll play for keeps with ‘em,” Forzen says, closing his door and darkening the room once again.

“Hell no, we’re not doing that!” Gordon says. Tommy clasps his Pogs tighter.

“Uhh, wanna play Pokemon?” Forzen says, “I have have Diamond.”

Gordon clamps his shocked, slack jaw closed, “What?!” He chokes out, laughing under his breath. 

“Yeah man, I have my DS right here, if you win you can take the Pogs,” Forzen says. 

Tommy keeps his gun aimed, looking back at Gordon, "I have a pretty good team, Mr Freeman, I've been grinding…"

"It's your Pogs, buddy, you make the call," Gordon says.

Tommy nods, "Okay, I'll Pokémon battle you!"

Forzen nods, finally clicking on the lights and stomping forward. He clicks his DS screen all the way back, and Gordon peers over Tommy’s shoulder to see his game slowly loading.

“Who’s your starter? I don’t think I even know them for Pearl,” Gordon whispers, shifting over so Bubby can watch too.

“Uhhh, I picked Piplup, but he’s a level eighty-two Empoleon now,” Tommy says, pointing out his team with his stylus. 

“Jesus, Tommy, you really love this game, huh?” 

“I named him Redbull cuz he kinda looks like a Redbull can,” Tommy says.

Forzen rolls his eyes, “I can’t believe you chose Piplup, it’s common knowledge that Infernape has the best stats out of the starters.”

“Hey, fuck you, man!” Gordon says, “Only assholes pick Pokemon based entirely on stats.”

“Picking based on statistical advantages is why I’m gonna be keeping those Pogs!” Forzen retorts. 

Bubby stands, “Over my ass you are!”

Gordon jumps to his feet, “Yeah! You can’t just fuckin’ take a man’s hard earned Pogs!”

Then, a toilet flush sounds from behind them, the pipes in the old building creaking. There’s a soft sound of a tap being turned on, then off, and Benrey emerges from the bathroom. He stalls in the doorway, drying his hands on his shirt. “Heyy.”

Forzen snaps his DS closed, and Benrey drops his arms to his side.

“What are you doing here?” Forzen demands. Benrey pauses, eyes glazed over.

“Huh?” Benrey says. “Oh, I’m here with them, bro. Getting Tommy’s Pogs back.”

Forzen steps closer, and Gordon balls his fists ready for another fight. He flicks his gaze to Coomer, and raises an eyebrow at the sight of his gun re-holstered in his belt.

“You haven’t been returning my calls,” Forzen says.

Benrey offers a shrug, and suddenly it clicks.

“You guys were dating?!” Gordon blurts out, “Wait, hold on, how did I not know about this?”

Benrey offers another shrug, “Wasn’t important.”

“Wasn’t important?” Forzen says, jaw slack. “Are you fuckin’ kidding me?”

“I mean, yeah, man, it’s over so it doesn’t matter,” Benrey says. He picks at his nails, “Plus you stole Tommy’s dog and that’s not cool.”

Gordon watches Forzen ball his fists again. He debates getting between them, knowing all too well that Benrey can hold his own in a fight, when he feels a small tap on his shoulder. He turns, and Bubby is at the window with a hand on Tommy’s back as he slips outside, gesturing for Gordon to follow.

He gazes back at the arguing ex-couple, and decides against helping, following Bubby out onto the fire escape.

Coomer stands on the ground below them, arms outstretched to catch them. Gordon smiles, lowering himself off the edge of the broken fire escape, and jumping to the floor. 

It’s darker now, the streetlights harsh against the dirt path. Tommy tucks his precious Pogs tighter under his arm, and Gordon still feels like this whole plan was immesuarbly stupid. 

There’s a small sound of metal colliding with metal, and Gordon turns to witness Benrey phase through the wall. He joins the group, hands stuffed into his pockets.

“Hey, Benrey.” Gordon says. 

“Yo,” Benrey replies, “Hey can we stop off at Applebees? I want mozzarella sticks.”

Coomer nods, “Gordon, I’m hungry!”

Gordon rolls his eyes playfully, piling into the back of Bubby’s car, “Yeah, sounds good.”

**Author's Note:**

> thank u for reading! :hollow80Love: 
> 
> feedback (kudos and comments) r greatly appreciated and encouraged! 
> 
> have a good day/night where ever yall are!


End file.
